Til I See Myself
by dinalian
Summary: She is sometimes more hate than person. It is sometimes easier to crawl back to the familiarity of disdain than it is to take a breath. But now, she is just exhausted. Or Catra on Horde Prime's ship, and how she starts to heal.


**AN: **Catra redeeming herself and healing from the pain and abuse? I would love to see it. Also head's up: Adora isn't in this first chapter because Catra can't handle that just yet.

Title taken from IDER's Mirror.

* * *

She is sometimes more hate than person.

It is sometimes easier to crawl back to the familiarity of disdain than it is to take a breath.

On harder days, she can admit to herself that more than anything, hatred is what fuels her—hatred for Shadow Weaver, for Hordak, for Adora, for …

She is most sure of this fact as she watches Horde Prime's sadistic smile as he sends his clones down to Etheria.

"Leave no prisoners," he sneers and leans back, relaxed.

Catra's stomach rolls, and the fight leaves her. She's dealt with evil before, has taken a long hard look at it, has overthrown it, has become it.

But now, she is just exhausted.

Beside her, the princess lets out a sob.

_I'm not like him,_ she thinks. _I'm not like him. I'm not like him. I'm not like him._

She thinks to herself even as some grunts take hold of her arms and roughly move her away.

* * *

Her back hits the cold, harsh metal of the chair with a thud. Her breathing comes out harsh and fast, and she glares up at the grunt in front of her, who is pulling his fist back.

"We're gonna ask again. Are you going to give us an honest answer this time?"

She knows they would let up just a little bit if she gave them something to work with, but she refuses deliberately. If they figure out she doesn't know enough about the planet to tell them how it works as a weapon, she's sure Horde Prime will have her killed.

She's fine. She's taken much worse than this before. If she can survive being lifted up by a magic force and thrown fully across a room and into a metal wall as a child, she can handle a few power-hungry assholes. Their punches don't even hurt that much.

She scoffs and spits at her captor. It lands perfectly, and she pulls back with a smirk. "How's that for an honest answer?"

The grunt doesn't even flinch. He sighs and just takes a hand to his face to wipe off her spit.

"Take them to the cells."

She licks her bruised, chapped lips and winces hard. That's going to be a bitch as it heals.

* * *

The space in her tiny cell feels incredibly big. She wants it to be smaller, more constricting. Maybe that way she can stop seeing ghosts in the empty spaces.

Every time her eyes are open, she sees shadows of pincers or hair with life of their own or eyes that glare at her from the darkness.

She is asleep more than she is awake these days.

When she sleeps, she sleeps face down on her pillow. It hurts when she does this because of the tender bruises no doubt flowering on her face, but she welcomes the pain.

Yet every time she wakes up, she finds herself curled up at the bottom of the bed. And when she looks up, a flash of blond on her pillow haunts her vision.

Every time it happens, she sighs, crawls back up the bed, flops down, and hugs her pillow to her face. She goes back to sleep.

* * *

But still there is no respite in sleep.

She dreams in black and white now. Maybe because her brain insists on creating a loop of past victories for her. All she sees is now is the fire, the explosions, the blood—all the blood that spreads and stains the earth, staining it a color she can't even perceive anymore.

Does everyone bleed the same? All the different creatures in the Etheria, do they all bleed like she does?

She doesn't know. She didn't look at them long enough to find out.

* * *

When there was a lice outbreak in the Horde, Shadow Weaver immediately singled her out as a source even though she never had the urge to scratch at her scalp and defiantly told Shadow Weaver so. But that didn't matter. Shadow Weaver sat her down, stopped her squirming with her magic, and watched as Catra's tears fell uncontrollably while her mane was entirely shaved off.

Turns out the source was fucking Kyle.

That night, she cried herself to sleep in Adora's arms, with Adora repeatedly promising her that they'd get their revenge one day.

It's yet another promise Adora hasn't kept.

But she'd rather go through that experience again than have this conversation right now, which is making her want to pull her hair out if only to get it to stop happening.

"Hey," it starts with Glitter saying. "Why did you do that?"

Catra doesn't speak, hoping she'll think she's just asleep.

"I know you're awake," Shimmer says. "You snore when you sleep."

Catra sputters. "Wha—I do not!"

"Or you, um, make other noises," Twinkle says like she wasn't interrupted.

Catra reddens. "It's—"

"Nightmares? Yeah, I get them too."

Catra brings her knees up to her chest, her arms coming around to hug them.

"Anyway," Glisten continues. "You didn't answer my question."

Catra sighs. "You're gonna have to be more specific, Sparkles. In case you haven't noticed, I've done a shit ton of things."

"Why did you save me?"

_Because I wanted to see if I could. Because I wanted to see if I was capable of doing something that wasn't destructive._

Catra shrugs before realizing Luster wouldn't be able to see it. "Maybe I was bored."

"Bullshit," Glimmer calls out, anger in her tone.

Catra growls, her grip on herself tightening. "I don't have to explain myself to you, _princess_."

"I just don't understand," Glimmer says, her tone softening. "In the Fright Zone, you were ready to die. What changed?"

"Who said anything did?"

Finally, finally, blissful silence. Catra uncoils from her position and allows herself to relax, and she lies down on her side.

"Catra." Glimmer breaks the bliss, of course. "I don't know how we're getting out of this."

"Oh, I'm sure your little squadron will think of something. Best friends or whatever, right?" Catra scoffs.

"I … I don't know if that's still true. We … didn't really see eye to eye when I left."

"Doesn't matter. Adora's gonna come barreling in here like the hero she's always wanted to be, save you, and leave me here."

"You really don't get it, huh?"

"What?"

"I screwed up. This entire thing, it's my fault. If I had just _listened_, we wouldn't be in this dumb place!" Something hits the wall they share and slides down. "They're not coming for me," Glimmer says in a whisper.

Catra's not sure where this is coming from, and why she's telling her of all people. Maybe Glimmer's finally lost it. Maybe she just needs someone, anyone to talk to, even if that person is the one who's tried to kill her multiple times. Maybe she's just sad and desperate and tired. Maybe they both are.

"Adora's not gonna do that."

"And how are you so sure?"

"I just … I know her."

"Then why do you think she'd leave you here?"

"Because people leave me. It's what they do."

Glimmer lets out a small sob. It seems she's hit a nerve.

"And," Catra continues. "I … I don't blame them."

Silence stays after that.

* * *

In the wall joining their cells, Glimmer scratches out a line every day. Like it actually matters how long they've been in here. She doesn't even know how Glimmer can tell it's a different day when they have no sun or moon or stars or _light_ to tell the days apart.

How long has it really been, she wonders. A month? Two? Three? Or has it just been the longest week of her life?

On the floor of her cell, near the door, shoved unceremoniously through the cell slats is a single tray of food. Though food is a more than generous term for what it is. They bring a different tray every day, and every day it remains untouched, unmoved.

She hasn't eaten. She doesn't know how long it's been since her last meal. At the Fright Zone, she thinks. Just before …

She doesn't eat anymore. Her growling stomach helps a bit with taking her mind off things. Helps her focus on the present as much as she can.

Glimmer keeps thinking of plans to get them both out of there. All of them stupid.

"What if we called for help and then when the guards come, we overpower them and take the keys?"

"And how are we supposed to do that in separate cells, princess?"

"We … I mean, we could …"

"Do nothing."

"I mean, you could take him on. My powers don't work up here, but I've seen you in battles. You're pretty strong."

Her stomach complains in response. "Yeah, but I don't want to."

"Catra," Glimmer chides, "are you still not eating?" Glimmer only knows she doesn't eat because for some reason, the guards complain about the full trays they have to collect every day. What dickheads.

Catra turns in her cot. "That's none of your business."

"It is when it's affecting our plans!"

Catra scoffs. "They're just _your_ plans, princess."

"Do you," Glimmer starts. "Do you not want to get out of here?"

Oh, she does. She really does. She hates it here. She hates that it reminds of the Fright Zone, with its cold metal interiors and the constant sound of machinery and soldiers barking out orders to each other.

But she hates it in the Fright Zone too. The way she sees her sadness on every surface, how big and empty it always feels now.

She hates it at Bright Moon as well of course. What right does it have to look so cozy? So nice? So much the opposite of the Fright Zone?

She hates wherever she is. Maybe it's just not worth the effort to think that anywhere is better than where she is now.

"Look, Catra, you've hurt people, and you've done some pretty bad stuff."

_Why did you do it?_ echoes in her head. _Why did you do it?_

Catra sucks in a breath in response.

"But so have I, you know," Glimmer continues. "And I like to think we can still make it better."

Catra stares up at the ceiling of her cell, silent.

"And you saved me, Catra. I don't know why, when it didn't help you at all, but you did. And you're in here with me. And you didn't tell them anything that could help them invade Etheria even more. And … I think that means Adora was right about you."

Catra sits up suddenly, ignoring the way the blood rushes to her head. "What do you mean?"

"Before everything"—Before the portal, she means, Catra knows she does—"Adora always said that she still believed in you. That you weren't a bad person, you just did bad things."

Catra blinks back the tears forming in her eyes and doesn't say anything at all.

That day, when the guard comes to collect her tray and change it to a new one, she moves from her bed and eats.

* * *

**AN: There's one more chapter to this story, featuring a certain hero.**


End file.
